Who I Am
by JasperLuver48
Summary: Edward Cullen feels as if his life is spiraling dangerously out of control and he has no idea who he is anymore. What, or more importantly, who will it take to rediscover if who he is who he truly wants to be?


**Author's Note:** Hello again... :) This story is gonna be a short one, maybe 3-4 chapters. It just popped into my mind one night and demanded to be told. It would have ended up being too long for a o/s so here it is :)

This story is dedicated and written specifically for my fantabulous beta Coachlady1... Seriously folks, I know I tell you with every chapter update and o/s that's posted how much I love her and how truly fantastic she is, but I don't think it's possible to comprehend with just words how damn much this woman means to me... *tear* She's truly one of the best people I know and to me, she's been one hell of a fantastic friend. She's helped me with a lot of personal things that I know I wouldn't be nearly as okay with right now as I am without her and for that I'll forever be in her debt. If you haven't read her stories Dangerous Corporate Liaisons (which is now complete) or Guarding Bella Swan (which is a WIP and won second place in the Don't Mess With the Help o/s contest) then you don't know what you are missing. Honestly, get over to her profile (which you can find under my favorite authors or favorite stories) and read them! Seriously LIKE NAO!

Coach, you are truly one of the best authors I've ever had the chance to read and I'm so glad I did. You make your characters take hold of our hearts and then we can't help but get sucked in for the ride, and what a good one it is... :) I threw in a few personal references for you which I'm sure you'll pick up on and I wrote this Edward/Bella just for you! (It's the first E/B I've ever written!) I love you with my whole heart and you are more than just a friend to me, you're more like a sister. I know that we'll be friends for a very, very long time to come!

As always, this was pre-read by the super fantastic Tiffaninichole (who I'm sure wanted to kill me because of my lack of ability to keep the tenses straight, but she fixes it because she loves me and Coach!) She rocks my world and I don't know what I'd do without her!

Also pre-read by the amazing Handsandfingers and Tyrablu. Those girls mean the world to me and I love them to death!

I couldn't very well ask Coach to beta her own surprise gift fic now could I, so our wonderful friend Savannah_Vee has stepped in to fill a very large pair of beta shoes and she did a stupendous job if you ask me! Thanks girl, for being a good friend and a wonderful author! If you haven't read her stuff, you NEED to! She's under my faves, but my very favorite story of hers is Uncomfortable... it's E/J slash and the best angsty/UST filled story I've read. She is seriously amazing and you should check her out!

I think that's it for this very, very, very long author's note but I can't help it... I love these girls and feel the need to thank them on a very regular basis! Please enjoy and don't forget to review! :)

**-JL**

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Who I Am

Chapter 1: Loss and Reconnection

It's a crisp morning in early fall as I pull up in front of the home I'd grown up in. It's been ten years since I've been back here and it's still exactly like I remember. Light blue with pale yellow shutters on the windows, the old wraparound porch still intact, with my favorite porch swing still hanging from the roof, and the flower bed in front of the porch blooming with pink, yellow, and purple chrysanthemums.

My parents had sold the house about ten years ago and moved into a smaller house in town. They said there was no sense in staying in such a big home without us kids there and I couldn't blame them; there was a lot of upkeep needed for the old place.

I don't come back to Forks often, mostly just for Thanksgivings or Christmases; I never make it both. I regret that I didn't get to spend more time with my father, now that he's gone.

I had to come back and bury my father. His funeral was yesterday and it was the hardest thing I'd ever done in my entire life. Carlisle was the epitome of the man I wanted to be, but found I could never quite measure up to. He had been a doctor in this small town for as long as I could remember and everyone loved him. Compassionate to a flaw, he put everyone's needs in front of his own and that's how it happened.

He'd stopped to help an older woman change her flat tire in the pouring rain―Forks was notorious for that. It had been nearly midnight and was freezing out, but he was on his way home from the hospital and couldn't just pass by. The next day he began to feel sick but thought nothing of it, assuming it was nothing more than a cold. But he just couldn't seem to shake it.

Being a doctor, he should have known better, recognized the symptoms for what they were, but he was seemingly healthy for his age. His chills, slight fever, and a cough were common symptoms. He was cautious as always with his patients, wearing a mask at work to prevent the spread of his cold.

Last week, he'd woken up freezing. He was also sweating profusely and having a hard time breathing. My mother rushed him to the hospital and they admitted him immediately. After the tests had been performed and it was determined to be pneumonia, he wasn't worried, insisting that I stay in San Diego and work, even after I offered to come home.

I should have come home then, but I was dealing with my own problems and he'd insisted. His condition worsened, and before they could get a grasp on it, fluid began to fill his lungs. If he hadn't been so damn stubborn, he'd probably still be here and I'd be able to talk to him and hug him and tell him all of the things that I never got to.

But I didn't come home and now I'll have to deal with that for the rest of my life. Anger bubbled up inside of me at my own selfishness but there were no tears this time.

I sit here staring at my childhood home, losing all track of time. What am I really doing here? I have no idea who even lives here now and I'm probably scaring them if they are home. Located on the outskirts of town, the road to turn into the place is nearly impossible to find unless you know what you're looking for.

I don't know who I am anymore. The man I was just didn't seem good enough for Tanya. She and I had been together for five long years and I thought we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. Two weeks ago, my world was turned upside down when I came home to find that nearly everything was gone.

She'd left me a note telling me that I wasn't what she wanted anymore. We weren't meant to be and she was off to find a place where she could truly meet her other half. I, on the other hand, felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest and stomped into oblivion.

Apparently, my ambition to build up my bakery and start expanding was too much for her. I was working too many long hours and not paying enough attention to her. I didn't have as much money to spend on her as I normally did, since I was investing in another building to start up the second location of Cullen's Confections. Her reasons were shallow at best but it still doesn't make me feel any better that the woman I loved was gone.

I was doing everything I could to be able to provide her with everything she could want for the rest of our lives and I thought she understood that it was going to take some sacrifices on both of our parts. I guess I wasn't worth the wait, because she high-tailed it out of my life and I haven't heard from her since. I doubt I ever will again.

My life feels like it's spiraling out of control. First I lost Tanya and then Carlisle. I need to feel grounded; connected to something. This house was the only place I could think of to come. There are memories of my childhood and teenage years attached to every square inch of this place and I need to be reminded of who I am or at least who I once was. At this point in my life, I don't feel like anything more than an empty shell of the man I should be and that's why I'm here.

I get out of the car and walk over to the big oak tree, just off to the right of the house. I'd spent a lot of time out here, sitting with my back against the old oak, just reading the classics. To Kill a Mockingbird is my all-time favorite and I must have read it fifty times, sitting against this tree. It was my father's favorite also and I still have his copy that he'd given me when I was twelve. I'll treasure that book forever.

I kneel down on one knee, reaching out to touch the rough bark with my fingers. I learned one of the most important lessons of my life against this tree. As Atticus Finch so eloquently put it to his daughter, Scout, _"You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view—until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it."_

I've always tried not to judge others without knowing who they are and what they've gone through. It's one thing my father prided himself on and passed along to Emmett, Alice, and myself.

I stood back up and walked around the back of the house, sticks crackling and leaves crunching under the sneakers I was wearing. As I look out into the surrounding forest, I remember all of the prime hiding places for countless games of Hide-and-Seek between us kids. Sometimes, when we were lucky, Mom and Dad would send us out to hide and come looking for us, their hands always entwined together. Those were the days that stood out most in my mind, spending time together as a family―playing, laughing, loving.

They were the perfect example of what a loving and nurturing couple should be and we are so blessed to have had them as our parents. I keep walking around to the left side of the house, still near the back.

I'm pleasantly surprised to find that our tree house fort is still here and looks to still be in use. Dad, Emmett and I had built it by hand the summer that I turned nine and Em was eleven. Looking at the three level fort makes me smile with pride.

Dad insisted that Emmett and I help him, teaching us that when you do things with your own two hands, the end result is ten times more rewarding.

That lesson is the reason I am so hands on with my business. Knowing that my hard work and effort is paying off made the success that much sweeter. But losing Tanya had blown it all to hell. What am I working for, if it isn't to provide a life for us?

I turn to the left to finish my sweep around the outside of the house. Nearing a small set of bushes that line the side of the porch, I find the rock we'd used to mark the spot where we had buried our golden retriever, Jake.

He was an amazing friend to me growing up. We got him when I was four, and buried him shortly after I turned fifteen. He was a great lesson in responsibility and learning to take care of something other than ourselves. We rotated the responsibility of feeding, walking, and bathing him between us kids and he followed us around everywhere.

I crouch down to pat the ground and whisper, "Even after all these years, Jake, I still love and miss you. You were such a good dog..."

Surprised that there are any tears left in my body, I have to close my eyes to keep them at bay. The past few weeks have been draining and I figured that I was pretty much all cried out.

"Excuse me..." A soft, female voice interrupts my musings. "Are you okay, sir?"

As I look up, my breath is taken away. Standing before me is a beautiful woman with long, brown hair and big, soft brown eyes, full of concern.

I stand back up and brush my knees off quickly. "Yes, I'm so sorry to trespass on your property." I step forward and offer her my hand. "I'm, Edward Cullen."

She takes my hand carefully, eyeing me cautiously. "Bella Whitlock. I'm sorry to pry, but can I ask what you are doing here?"

"I grew up in this house and just wanted to come back and see the old place while I'm in town." It was the best explanation I could think of without baring my soul to this beautiful stranger.

"Is that all?" She lets out a small sigh of relief. "Sure, go ahead. Would you like to come in and look around?"

I'm flabbergasted at her kind offer. "Are you sure that wouldn't be a problem? I don't want to impose," I say out loud, but secretly am hoping she doesn't rescind the offer.

"No, it's no problem whatsoever. I apologize for the house being a mess, Jackson has me pretty busy these days."

"Your husband?" I ask without thinking.

"No, my son. He's ten and involved in just about everything you could think of for his age," she informs me.

"Is he around? I don't want to scare him by just showing up in your home."

"Not today, he's out hunting with The Chief." She began to walk toward the front porch and I followed.

"The chief?" I ask again.

"Oh, sorry, my father, Charlie. He's the chief of police but he refuses to be called Grandpa, says he's not old enough to be called that yet. I think he just likes being called The Chief and Jax thinks it's so cool that he gets to call him that." She laughs again and it stirs something inside of me.

What was that? I wonder to myself. I let it go without thinking too much of it and follow her into the house.

"Go ahead and look around, we don't have anything to hide. I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything," Bella told me.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it." I turn to head up the stairs, toward the room I had grown up in.

Walking down the narrow hallway, I pass the bathroom and Emmett's old room. My room was across from Alice's, and I remember how she used to sneak into my room when it would storm and climb under the covers with me. She always felt safer with me and somehow she always knew how to calm my nerves too.

I slowly open the second door to the right, revealing the space I am most anxious to revisit. It's decorated differently, yet somehow, it's exactly the same. I have to assume this is the room Jackson now inhabits, as it screams ten year old boy in here, with toy trains, camo, and sports posters all over the place.

I can see my twelve year old self sitting on the bed, hugging my knees and crying into them because a bully at school was picking on me. I remember not being able to understand why he hated me so much just because I was smarter than he was. He called me names like, geekward and nerdward, which hurt my feelings a lot, but when he started pushing me down, hitting me, and stealing my homework, it became too much to handle by myself.

My father walked into my room and sat down on the edge of the bed. He asked me what was wrong in that soothing tone that would make anyone feel comfortable enough to confide their deepest secrets with him.

I told him about the boy in school, and he just shook his head before looking at me with a serious expression and telling me he'd be right back.

A few minutes later he walked back into my room with something in his hands. "I want you to stand up for yourself, Edward, but not with violence like the other boy uses. I want you to use your head; you are far too smart to stoop to that level. If you ignore him, he'll eventually back down. That's the thing about bullies, son. They crave the attention and if you don't acknowledge what they are doing, they will get bored."

"I don't know if I can, Dad. It really bothers me and I'm not sure that I can act like it doesn't." I was afraid of disappointing my father.

"You can do it, Edward, I have faith in you; I want you to have this." He handed me his copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. "It's my favorite book and I've learned a lot about people from reading it."

"Thanks, Dad." I was grateful for the gift and opened it up immediately.

He stood up and walked to the door, then turned back to face me and began to speak. "I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do."

He then turned to exit the room and left me to my reading. It wasn't long before I realized that his final words of advice to me that day were taken from the book that soon became my favorite. That book has had a huge impact on my life and I have him to thank for it. It gave me the strength to stand up to James and he left me alone from then on and if anyone ever tried to bully me again, I remembered my father's words and handled the situation.

A loud clang from downstairs brings me back to reality.

Suddenly, I'm not a twelve year old boy dealing with childish problems; I'm now back to my thirty year old self, with adult issues.

I walk over to the closet that is open and notice the familiar markings and my mother's handwriting. My growth chart containing eighteen familiar marks. It was a tradition for our family that started on our first birthday and didn't end until we hit eighteen; we would gather in the bedroom and Mom would mark our growth for the year, then we would head downstairs and have a celebratory dinner of our choosing.

I take one last look around the room, committing it to memory, before shutting the door and heading back downstairs. I briefly stop in the living room and the dining room but am anxious to get into the kitchen.

Besides my bedroom, the kitchen was my favorite place in this house; it's where my passion for baking was sparked. Esme, my mother, loved to bake and would often ask for help. We realized quickly that I had a knack for it and I loved it a lot. There was something truly rewarding about creating something delicious from scratch and having the ones you made it for truly enjoy it.

The kitchen was exactly the same and I felt a strange wave of peace settle over me. I could see myself at eight years old, helping Mom bake a cake for my father's birthday. It was the first year that I did and I had flour and chocolate everywhere, but Mom didn't care. She never tried to rein me in as long as I did what she asked. I've always been a bit of a free spirit and have never liked to be controlled by restrictions.

The scene is replaying itself before my eyes and I can't help but smile. It feels foreign for my face to twist upwards like this, but then again, it feels good. I haven't smiled in so long, not since before Tanya left and all this heartache with my father began.

I honestly feel a little more like myself after having spent the morning reliving my past. This house holds nothing but great memories of my life and my father and I can't find it in myself to regret coming here, although deep down I feel as though I should. It's hard on me to remember but it's a necessary evil, because I don't ever want to forget.

I lean against the doorway, quietly tucked away with the thoughts in my head when I feel it―an unmistakable feeling of being watched. I cock one eye open and notice Bella walking to the table with two mugs in her hands, and the distinct smell of hot tea floats through the air.

Both eyes open and Bella smiles at me. "Would you like some tea? It's pretty chilly out there today."

"Yes, thank you." I find myself accepting her invitation, although I really don't feel like company. She's making me feel oddly comfortable in a situation where I should feel out of place.

This isn't my home anymore, I'm intruding in her personal space and she's being very gracious about it.

""So, you're Dr. Cullen's son?" she asks me, diving right into conversation.

My heart constricts at the question. "Yes, ma'am..."

"Oh, please. I'm not old enough to be a ma'am yet, it's just Bella." There's a twinkling in her eyes, letting me know she's playing around before her face goes soft. "I'm really sorry about what happened. He's always been nothing but nice to Jackson and myself when we go to the clinic, especially when Jax broke his arm, falling out of the tree fort out back."

"He sounds an awful lot like myself at that age; I fell out of the second level of that fort when I was eleven. Well, if I'm being honest, my brother Emmett dared me to jump, but we didn't want to get in trouble so we fibbed." All these memories just keep flooding back, this place holds so much of my soul and I don't know how I'm supposed to leave, so I just pick up the mug and take a sip of the warm tea.

"He's a good kid; just a typical boy I'm told."

"Yeah, boys will be boys..." I say absentmindedly. My attention is drawn to a photo on the wall behind Bella's head. In it, there's a younger Bella standing there with a man who looks to be about the same age, standing in front of this house. Bella is beaming and holding a set of keys on proud display. The man in the photo is holding a baby, looking down at it with so much love in his eyes that I have to choke back my emotions once more.

I must have been staring longer than I realize because Bella turns her head to see what's capturing my attention. "That's our first day as homeowners. Your father had just handed over the keys to us and actually insisted on taking that photo." There's something sad in her eyes as she talks but I don't want to pry. "He was such a good man..."

I raise my eyebrow because I'm not sure if she is talking about the man in the photo with her or my father.

"Jasper..." She almost chokes on his name. "He was my husband and my entire world."

I know I'm being nosy but I have to ask, "Was?"

"A drunk driver hit him, seven years ago, in a head-on collision. Although it was hard, I've finally come to terms with it. I'm just sorry that Jackson will never know his father." Her voice is shaky as she talks about Jasper and her fingers keep fidgeting.

"I know better than anyone after these last few days that someone telling you that they are sorry when you've lost someone isn't very comforting, but for what it's worth, I am sorry that happened to you. You seem far too sweet to have to deal with that." I offer a small smile and she reaches out, touching my hand with hers.

"Thank you, Edward. It truly does suck but I'm okay. I should be asking how you're doing."

Is this woman for real? She truly seems interested so I tell her the truth about my feeling lost in this world, looking for a way to reconnect with myself. We end up talking like old friends and time flies.

"Wow, can you believe we just talked for the past two hours?" she asks as she gets up and puts our empty tea mugs in the sink.

"It's so easy to talk to you; I barely know you and you have me baring my soul to you. You remind me a lot of my father in that way, maybe that's why it's so simple," I reveal to her.

"Edward, do you have to go back to San Diego soon?" she asks, almost shyly.

I sigh deeply before I answer. "I'm not going back for awhile. I've decided to stay in Forks and help my mother get my father's affairs in order and then just stick around to make sure my mother is okay. I've got good people running the bakery and I can handle the rest of the plans by phone. Besides, there's nothing waiting there for me anymore."

"Would you like to come back over sometime and have dinner, maybe? I mean, I've had such a good time talking to you and I'd like to talk to you some more."

"I would love that, Bella. Thank you." I write my phone number down for her and thank her for her hospitality before I turn to head for the door. For the first time since all this crap started, I have something to look forward to.


End file.
